Fear No Monsters
by Chloe Chamberleign
Summary: Dean and Sam are sent to a boy's reform school. It is run by strict rules and a cruel staff. Dean will stop at nothing to escape with Sammy. Limp!Hurt!Sam Protective!Hurt!Dean. Teenchesters.


**A/N: Gah new story! It was too tempting :) **

**Here's the basis: Dean and Sam come from different families it seems, however they both end up at a reform school.**

**Disclaimer: no own**

**Dean is sixteen, Sam is eleven**

**Mentions of Adam and Castiel and Bobby Singer**

**warning: mentions of child abuse, mild language**

**please don't hate me for torturing my babies sam and dean :)**

Sixteen-year-old Dean waited quietly. Stolen car engine running, he gripped the steering wheel tightly until his knuckles turned white. At every sound, he flinched and looked out the car window. He held a cigarette in his fingers and was nervously smoking it for comfort. It was dark out, the only light emanating from a street light on the road outside the small side street. He sat with his head resting against the back of the seat, sitting up straight, blending in with the shadows, slowly taking drags from his cigarette to calm his nerves. A siren whaled in the distance, and Dean tensed up. He knew exactly what car the siren was from and how far off it was. When you've been living on the streets for two years, you begin to memorize these things.

It was a police car about a block away, and by the sound of it. it was coming closer. A car honked somewhere in the distance, making the teenager flinch. He sat up and glanced slowly out the window again, putting down his cigarette. Nothing. He sat back again and looked forward through the windshield. A rattling noise came from the building to the left of him near where he was parked. He turned his head slowly in the direction of the noise, his palms sweating. He glanced in the rear-view mirror to see behind him. Outside, a man in a dark janitor's uniform walked out a side door from the building to Dean's left. The custodian carried a metal trash bin and emptied it in a dumpster off the side of the fire escape. He didn't seem to notice the car Dean was in and walked back around the other side of the fire escape to attend to some other duties.

Dean let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. He held his arm out and looked at his watch and read the numbers in the dim light of the street lamp. It was nearly eleven o'clock.

A loud crash followed by an alarm bell was heard toward the building the custodian had been working by. Dean whipped his head around and looked in the direction. He saw his cue and opened the car door, stepping out and then quickly jogging over to the building. A young man in his early twenties tumbled out of the side door of the building and caught himself before he could trip. It was one of the drug dealers Dean had been working for that week. He knew he had to make money to survive somehow. Dean met him halfway and then led him quickly over to the car.

"Let's get the hell out of here!" the young man yelled to him, climbing in the passenger seat of the car Dean had been sitting in. "I got the money, come on, let's go!"

Before Dean had time to react, a security guard emerged from the side door, a revolver in his hand. The guard raised it and fired a bullet toward the young man. It shot through the window and lodged itself in the young man's left shoulder.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean shouted, jumping into the driver's seat. The guard fired another shot which flew over the car and missed. The young man in the passenger seat pulled out a gun from the glove compartment and fired it at the security guard. His bullet hit the guard in the chest. The guard sank to the ground against the wall, red blood seeping through his uniform, his gun still raised in the air.

The guard fired another loud shot at the two, busting another window of the car. The young man shot back at him, nearly hitting the guard.

Dean started up the engine and put his hands on the wheel, shaking. The young man climbed over Dean and rolled down the driver seat's window, sticking the gun he held out and firing more bullets.

"What are you doing? We gotta go!" Dean yelled, trying to push him back to his seat. The guard shot a bullet through the front windshield, shattering the glass.

The young man sat back in his seat, slamming his door closed. "Alright drive! Go!"

Dean strained to see through the shattered glass and stepped on the gas. He drove recklessly through the side street, not knowing where it let out to an exit. Finally Dean made it to an intersection. He swerved the car, nearly missing a minivan which honked angrily at him. Before he could drive anywhere else, four police squad cars drove around him, making a circle with him in the middle. Dean slammed on the breaks, crashing into one of the squad cars in front of him. The airbag in both the driver and passenger seat went up, and Dean's head was slammed to the side against the window. He shook his head to get rid of the dizziness and then looked through the shattered windshield. Police officers jumped out of their cars, waving guns all around him. "Step out of the car, son! Keep your hands on your head!" They yelled.

Knowing he was defeated, Dean stepped out of the car, holding his hands up to his head which now had a gash in it from the impact.

The next thing Dean knew, he was sitting in a courtroom with only a few jury members and a judge in front of him. The drug dealer he had been working for was nowhere to be seen. Of course he had gotten away and left Dean in hot water. After all, why should that man care about an abandoned, desperate, sixteen-year-old runaway?

"Young man," the judge said, looking over some paper work over his thick-rimmed glasses. "I have enough on you to try you as an adult," he said sternly.

Dean looked down at the polished marble floor. There was no way he was getting out of this one. He was really in trouble this time. The judge took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes boredly. "But since you are sixteen and this is your first offense that has gotten you in a courtroom, I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourself," He looked directly at Dean disapprovingly. Dean hated when people looked at him like that. Like he was some lost child who never learned right from wrong. "I am sending you to a reform school," the judge went on.

Dean looked up at him. He had been expecting to be let off with community service or at most two nights locked up. But reform school?

"You will be placed in the custody of the juvenile facilities at Holloway for a period of three years or until such time as the parole board allows your release." The white-haired judge banged his gavel against the block. "Next case," he announced as two officers led Dean out of the courtroom.

Dean spent the night in a small holding cell at the courthouse. The next morning he was put in the back of a large truck-like bus. About five other boys of various ages were already on the bus. Some glared at him and some didn't even look up. Dean had a small duffel bag with him that carried his belongings from the grungy motel room he had been staying at with a few junkies who had taken him in if he helped get money for them.

In the duffel bag was an extra t-shirt and pants, two pairs of boxers, and socks. He figured someone there would have toothpaste and shampoo and all the rest. He had sat alone on the bus, but soon another kid came on the bus and sat right next to Dean. Surprised, Dean glanced down at the kid. He had soft brown hair which seemed a bit wavy and soft green eyes. The kid held a teddy bear to his chest and set his bag on the ground under his feet which didn't even touch the floor of the bus completely.

They rode in silence, some of the others talking quietly to each other. "You scared?" the small boy next to Dean squeaked.

Dean hesitated and then shrugged. "Nah, not anymore. Worst part's over, which is sentencing."

The little boy looked nervous as he swung his legs back and forth. "I wish I wasn't scared," he said quietly, staring out the window. Dean looked over at the child. What could a small boy like him have done to end up going to a place like this? "I don't like being locked up," the little boy continued, turning back to face Dean. His voice quivered slightly.

Three of the other boys on the bus were glaring at the kid, rolling their eyes. Dean glared right back at them, and they reluctantly went back to their business.

"I ran away," the little boy proceeded to tell Dean quietly. "I was in a foster home for the fourth time. Cops found me," he said quietly.

Dean looked intently at the kid. "How long you going in for?"

The kid shrugged. "Just 'till I'm fourteen. But I'm never going back to a foster home," He looked out the window again.

Dean shook his head. "You think it's gonna be any easier living on the streets once you get out?"

The kid looked back at him and shrugged. "It's gotta be easier than where I've been," he said with a broken voice.

"How old are you?" Dean asked.

"Eleven. How old are you?"

Dean looked at the floor of the bus. "Sixteen, just turned."

A small argument from two of the boys toward the front broke out, causing Dean's attention to shift from the small child to all the chaos. The driver looked back in his mirror and frowned. "Hey stop it!" The driver yelled. "You want your time doubled?"

The two boys stopped fighting and then rolled their eyes and pouted in silence. The bus reached a large building surrounded by a metal gate. A security guard on the inside opened up the gate and the truck drove through. The same guard who opened the gate came around and unlocked the back door of the bus, letting the boys file out.

Two dark-haired boys piled out first with their bags and then the small kid who had latched onto Dean stepped out of the bus next. Dean followed behind the kid closely, keeping an eye on him. For whatever reason, Dean felt as though he needed to protect this little green-eyed boy. It had grown dark now and the sky was a beautiful pinkish blue color. A different security guard was leading a group of inmates towards the building. Another guard trailed behind the group.

A huge tower stood in the center of the reformatory, a long ladder leading up to it. "What's with the tower?" Dean muttered to himself.

A boy about his age with brown curly hair behind him smirked. "Used to be a water tower. Now it's the voice of reason,"

"Huh?" Dean looked at him.

The boy smirked and shook his head. "You'll find out soon enough,"

"Let's go," the guard said, moving them along quickly.

The five newcomers were led inside a building that smelled like burnt toast and fresh paint. They walked up a flight of stairs and then through a door that said 'Main Office.' Dean looked around each room he passed.

"I expected this place to have barbed wire and padlocks," he joked to the boy he had talked to earlier.

The boy shook his head. "Don't be fooled. Worst thing about this place is the isolation block," he explained to Dean.

The guard opened the door to the main office. "Here's the fresh meat," he said in an unsettling way.

A tall man in one of the security guard uniforms looked at the five boys standing before him, whispering to each other. The man smiled at the boy who had been talking to Dean. "It's nice to see you're back, Noah," he said. "I see I shouldn't have let you out so early only to find you'd be brought back just as quick."

The boy called Noah smirked. "You can shove my file up your ass,"

The guard's smirk faded and the other boys burst into laughter. Dean chuckled slightly but the little boy who stood next to him didn't even smile.

The guard blew the whistle around his neck loudly. "Alright, that's enough! Showers to your left! Straight ahead to the infirmary! Eyes forward, single file, no talking!" He opened a door and had the boys file in as he squinted his eyes at them. "Order is the rule here."

The boys entered a white-painted room with a concrete floor. A man in white scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck sat at a desk near the door. "Strip down," the nurse instructed. "Showers to your left. Physical in ten minutes."

The guard who had yelled at them earlier walked in after them. "Get undressed, gentlemen," he said in a very routine-like tone.

The newer boys looked at each other warily and then at the nurse and the guard. Noah, since he'd been through the process before, was the first to begin unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, the others followed suit. Dean looked over at the guard. The guard seemed to be staring a little to interestedly at the boys, in particular the little boy who had clung to Dean. Dean made a mental note to figure out the kid's name.

Showers weren't as awkward as Dean thought it would be. After all, they were all in the same boat and it was nothing he hadn't seen before. The little green-eyed kid looked terrified as he shivered under the cold water of the showers. Without warning the male nurse entered where the five boys were showering. "You're going to be inspected inside and out," the nurse said, snapping on some white rubber gloves. "So get it clean,"

Noah rolled his eyes. "Damn perverts," he muttered under his breath to Dean.

Before Dean knew what was happening next, the showers were all turned off and the boys were being rushed into another room. The nurse had them line up against the wall while he sprayed them with what looked like bug spray. The thick chemical spray made the little kid start coughing and gasping for breath.

"Shake out your hair!" The nurse instructed. The boys scrubbed their hair while the chemical continued to be sprayed. "Turn around!" The nurse yelled again. The boys, still coughing, turned and faced the wall. "Bend over!" Again, they did as they were told. "Spread 'em wide!"

After about ten more seconds of the disinfection spray, the nurse dismissed them. The boys were given what looked like blue hospital gowns that reached their knees to put on. They were ushered through another room that looked like another office.

"Clothes in the hamper. Make sure your name tags are on them," another guard behind a desk said, shoving metal trays at each boy across the desk counter. "Personals in the basket,"

One boy set some headphones in the metal bin and then moved down the line. The little kid with the green eyes was next. He put his small duffel bag in the bin and tried to proceed down the line. The guard behind the desk stopped him and held out her hand. "Rag doll, too, honey. This ain't no kindergarten," the female guard said.

The kid clutched his teddy bear. "No please, it's all I have!" He said almost obsessively. The line was being held up and now the others were all watching him. Dean was behind the kid and watched as the woman tried to take the stuffed animal away from him while the kid tugged back on it. It was like some tug-of-war. The teddy bear had a little squeaking sound when the stomach was pressed, like a chew toy.

"Come on, hand it over," the guard said, tugging on the toy. "You're a big boy now."

The kid wouldn't give in. "Please, it's all I have left of my mom! Please no! Please!"

The guard near the door cleared his throat and the woman looked over at him. He made the sign that the kid was a psycho and the woman nodded and let go of the teddy bear. "Alright, alright, it gets past me. But I'm not the final word here. Now move it along," She set another tray down in front of Dean and he set his duffel bag in it and then setting the clothes he had taken off earlier in a hamper.

The woman repeated the instructions to the others in line and the process continued.

"State your size," the same nurse from earlier said. He stood behind another desk, a shelf of uniforms behind him. "Small, medium, or large. Don't worry about style. Same this year as last year."

"Small," the kid squeaked and was shoved a pair of grey pants, a white shirt, and a grey jacket.

"Medium," Dean said solemnly and was given the same style.

Next was a mandatory meeting with the reformatory therapist. Dean was called into the therapist's office first. Now clad in the Holloway School uniform, he cautiously opened the door.

A heavy-set man sat at a large desk facing a computer. He was typing some file and when Dean squinted his eyes to see, he realized it was his own file that the man was looking at. "Come on in and sit down, Mr. Winchester," the man said without turning around.

Dean saw a chair in front of the desk and sat in it slowly. The therapist turned and looked at some paperwork. "Friends call you Dean?" He asked.

Pshh, what friends? Dean thought. "Yes, sir,"

"May I?"

"I guess so," Dean said, shrugging.

The man's face seemed to soften and smiled. "Good, I'd like that," He nodded for a moment. "I'm Dr. Bobby Singer. I'm a psychologist. I've been assigned here to work with the boys on the inside. Listen to your problems, help you cope. I know it's difficult being in here-"

"The judge said I might get parole. When would that be?" Dean interrupted.

Dr. Singer sighed. "Well, you're here for three years, so you won't be eligible for at least fourteen months and a lot of that depends on your behavior and your attitude."

Dean lowered his gaze. He was screwed. "Yes, sir,"

Dr. Singer held out a cigarette. "Smoke, son?"

"Yes," Dean said, taking the cigarette.

Dr. Singer lit his cigarette for him and then picked up Dean's printed file. "I see in your file that your father's your legal guardian. John Winchester. How's he feel about you being here?"

Dean took an angry drag from the cigarette and rolled his eyes. "He doesn't care. We don't like each other much,"

"Why not?"

"My parents split when I was four. Don't remember my mom much, but she died a few months after they split up. Dad took me with him so I wouldn't have to go live in a foster home."

"Did you not get along?" Dr. Singer asked.

Dean had a pained, cold smile on his face. "Oh, he liked me a lot at first...when I was little,"

"What happened?"

Dean paused and took another drag. "As I got older, I made him stop,"

Dr. Singer paused and looked at Dean curiously but with a concerned gleam in his eye. "Stop?"

Dean shrugged. "Liking me so much," he said simply.

"You mean he molested you?" Dr. Singer nodded.

"Yes, sir,"

Dr. Singer looked away for a minute, gathering his thoughts. Then he turned back to Dean. "Did you ever tell anybody?"

"I was just an eleven-year-old who was too chicken-shit to do anything about it. As I got older, I made sure he stayed away. I learned to handle myself okay," Dean said in a cold tone.

"Not well enough," Dr. Singer commented. "You're here. I think you're going to do just fine, Dean. You're new here and so am I. I hope you and the other boys will come to me and tell me what it's like in here. I'll listen, and I'll work with you to make it as easy as I can. Got a deal?" He asked, smiling.

Dean put out the cigarette. "It's a deal,"

After the sessions were over, Dean and the others were led outside by two guards to another part of the building. They passed through a metal gate, and the guard locked it behind them.

The little boy from earlier pulled on Dean's sleeve. "Hey, if we bunk together, will you be my friend?" he asked, his eyes wide with hope and fear.

Dean smiled and messed up the kid's hair. "I already am," he said slinging a long arm around the younger boy's thin shoulders and drawing him close.

The guards led them through one last door. "All files are in, sir," the guard said as he led the boys in. "Here's the new shipment."

A man with a military looking uniform set down a newspaper and peered over at them. His skin looked too tight on his face and his eyes were a piercing blue. He looked about to be in his forties and he smirked upon seeing the five newcomers. He was eating lunch at his desk and set down his fork before standing up and walking over to them. "I thought I smelled fear," the man said, grinning a little too sickly for Dean's liking. "Welcome to our summer camp, gentlemen. This is the last stop on your tour."

When he walked, Dean noticed a set of about twenty keys jingling from his belt loop as well as a policeman's baton which he carried in his right hand. "Home, you might call it," He peered at the row of boys. "So Noah, I see that smart-mouth of yours got you back in here." He motioned to one of the guards. "Take these three to number seventeen," he said, gesturing to three boys Dean didn't know. "And these three to number twenty-one," he said, gesturing to Dean, Noah, and the kid.

"Everyone's a first-timer once. Get them out of here," the man said to the guard. The guard in the corner nodded and took the three boys out of the room. Noah, Dean, and the little boy stood alone in front of the man in the uniform. He got out a clipboard and read the names. "Dean Winchester, Samuel Campbell, and of course Noah Jones," he read.

Dean looked at the small kid. Samuel, huh? Dean wondered if he went by 'Sam.' And why did the name Campbell sound so familiar to him?

The man slammed down the clipboard on the desk. "You may be numbers to all the rest, but not to me. You do things right, and we'll get along. I run a good, tight dorm. Right, Noah?"

Noah rolled his eyes. "The only thing tight about you are your pants," Noah remarked, getting a slight laugh from Dean, who immediately regretted it. The man glared at Noah and then at Dean.

"I'll remember that remark," the man said sternly to Noah. "I'm the head warden here. You answer to me on every count. My name's Vincent Reed. But some of the boy's call me Vinnie after they get to know me better. I like that. You might like it, too, after a while,"

Reed reached over and brushed a hand through Sam's hair. Sam whimpered and cringed. Dean felt his fists clench with rage. Reed chuckled at Sam's fearful expression.

"I expect full cooperation," Reed said, lighting a cigar and then putting it in his mouth. He looked Sam up and down and then tried to grab the teddy bear out of his hands. "That doll, I gotta take it,"

"No," Sam begged, pulling it from him.

"We got rules here," Reed said, shaking his head. He chuckled as Sam clung to the bear. "What are you? A freaking baby?"

Dean wrapped his arms around the younger boy's shoulders. "Can't he keep it? It's real important to him," Dean said remembering not to raise his voice.

"Speaking out of turn?" Reed cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at Dean. "Did you here what I said about cooperation?"

Dean kept his expression indifferent. "But the nurse said he could keep it," he said in a forceful tone.

Reed brought on a look of mock sympathy. "Oh, I'm impressed," he said, snatching the teddy bear out of Sam's hands. The teddy bear made a quite squeaking sound as Reed clutched it and held it just out of Sam's reach. Sam's eyes went wide.

Reed dangled the stuffed animal by a ragged, floppy ear and went around to his desk. He took a smoke from his cigar and then opened a drawer ok his desk, blowing the smoke from his mouth. He looked over at Sam. "It'll be safe with me," he said, dropping it in the drawer. "You want to see it from time to time, you just ask me nicely," Reed kicked the drawer closed loudly.

Sam flinched at the sound and looked pleadingly up at Dean, hoping he would do something. Dean just stared at the man in front of him who carelessly smoked his cigar. Reed smirked at Dean, chuckling slightly. He put out his cigar in an ashtray on his desk. "Now let's go to the dorm,"

Reed led the three up a flight of cement stairs. The staircase was dark and cold. As he walked, Reed's keys jingled and he swung the club he carried through his fingers expertly.

As they climbed farther up the stairs, the noise of boys chatting and laughing grew louder. Two doors with a tinted window that read 'dorm twenty-one' was before them.

Reed stepped forward and took a key from the chain he carried and unlocked the door, letting the three through.

Boys on bunk beds turned and stared at the newcomers. Some lights hung from the ceiling but other than that there were no windows and the room was dark. It was loud and intimidating. Most of these kids had committed serious crimes. Some boys were in uniform, others were simply clad in boxer shorts and their white t-shirts.

Sam cautiously stepped in first, nervously looking around at everyone. Dean stood behind him, arms crossed tightly around his own chest.

Reed pointed to some bunk beds with his club. "There are three empties down back. You take number fifteen," he said to Sam. "And you take seventeen," he said to Dean. "And you get the upper, number eighteen," he said to Noah. Reed smirked at them. "Dinner in an hour,"

He left and closed the doors behind him, locking them.

As the three boys moved toward their bunks, the other boys snickered and hollered insults and threats at them, throwing clothes as they walked by.

Noah stopped and turned to face some of them who had swarmed the three. "Alright you jerks, just because you've been in here longer doesn't mean you're getting out any sooner!"

The boys simply laughed and pretended to be scared, but they eventually parted and left them alone.

Sam hesitantly walked over to bunk number fifteen but stopped dead when he saw someone already there. A boy with blonde hair and a tattoo of some kind of inscription on his arm sat on bunk number fifteen. He only wore the grey pants and grey jacket, no white t-shirt underneath. His torso was built and littered in scars, as were his arms. He turned slowly when he felt someone staring at him and glared at little Sam, his eyes narrowing.

Sam gulped and backed up a little. The blonde boy flipped Sam off and then turned back to the book he was reading.

Sam got the message and quickly moved to the bunk above fifteen. But there was already another kid in that one too. Sam hesitantly climbed back down the ladder and looked around nervously, not sure where to go.

Dean stood by the next bunk over and looked at Sam's nervous expression. "Sam, Reed told you to take fifteen," he said.

Sam turned to him and pointed to the boy in the bunk. The boy didn't look up at Dean but said simply, "Fifteen's taken, kid," the boy said.

Dean glared at the boy who seemed to be about his age if not older. "Well Reed just told him to take it," Dean said, regaining his confidence.

The other boys in the room grew quiet and all attention turned to Dean. The boy jumped out from the bunk and stood a tall height, challenging Dean with his eyes. "Listen here pal,"

Dean interrupted him, "Thanks but I'm not your pal." He said firmly. The other boys raised their eyebrows and 'ooohed.'

Sam peered over at Dean from behind the boy. "It's really okay, Dean. I don't mind..."

"Well you should mind!" Dean said to him. "You heard what Reed said about the rules." The other boys snickered at this and rolled their eyes. Dean looked back at the boy. "Now how about I help you move your stuff to the upper," he said moving toward the bunk.

Out of nowhere, the boy shoved Dean backwards so hard that Dean banged his head against the bunk bed behind him. "How about I move your ass across the floor?!" The boy yelled at him through gritted teeth.

The other boys cheered and yelled encouragement to fight. Dean caught his balance and felt the back of his head. No blood. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Noah stepped behind Dean. "Let it go, Dean," he said calmly.

"Let it rest, Dean," one of the other boys in the crowd mocked.

The blonde boy nodded. "Your friend has the right idea," he said.

"My friend may be afraid of you, but I'm not," Dean challenged. He moved again to help Sam get into the bunk but before he could, the boy grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground.

"I said lay of it, pal!" The boy yelled. Dean pulled himself back up just to be sent right back down when the boy delivered a powerful right hook to his jaw. Dean brought a hand to his jaw to keep it loose. The boys roared for Dean to get up and fight. The blonde boy looked away for a moment, and Dean jumped back up and locked his hands around the boy's throat. The boy grabbed Dean's wrists, trying to pry his hands off his throat. Both knocked each other to the floor where they continued to roll and throw punches at each other.

The boy was on top of Dean, delivering blow after blow to his face while Dean blocked them as best as he could. Sam jumped on the boy's back, trying to get the boy off of Dean. "Cut it out!" Sam yelled. The boy knocked Sam off of him.

Two of the boy's friends grabbed Sam and held him there, forcing him to watch as the boy pounded his fists into Dean's face. Dean finally got the upper hand and was able to roll on top of the boy and get back at him with a few punches of his own.

Over all the noise, a whistle blew three consecutive times and all the boys froze and looked at the source. Dean felt a strong, meaty pair of hands pull him up by his shoulders and upper arms and onto his feet. "Break it up!" Mr. Reed yelled loudly. The boy got up and stood near the crowd of boys. Reed still had a grip on Dean's shirt collar. "I see you're going to have a hard time adjusting," he said to Dean distaste fully.

"I was adjusting," Dean said defiantly. He glared at the boy who had started the fight. The boy smirked smugly at him.

"Don't contradict me, you insolent boy!" Reed said, smacking Dean upside the head. He shook his head disapprovingly. "Stirring the shit already, huh?" He turned calmly to the blonde-haired boy. "What happened Carver?"

The boy who was Carver answered without hesitation, "I was just sitting there in my bunk when he shoved me to the ground, honest,"

Some of the other boys nodded in agreement to back Carver up. Dean rolled his eyes. Reed turned to look at Dean with a hardening expression. "You know your time here, boy. Attacking someone in your dorm for no reason is against the rules. You just lost one privilege,"

Dean's face raged. "But he-"

"Speaking out of turn?" Reed interrupted, laughing menacingly. "Lord, boy. You're just breaking all the rules. You want another privilege taken away?"

Dean went silent and looked away. Reed smirked in satisfaction of the power he held over these boys. He turned to face the others in the dorm. "The name of the game, gentlemen, is control. Complete control. Everyone in your bunks 'till dinner," he commanded. This was met with much groaning and protest from some of the boys. Reed left the room again, always locking the door behind him.

The boys walked back to their bunks, nudging into Dean as they past him, whispering threats and sarcastic words of 'thanks a lot.'

Carver moved to the bunk above fifteen without a word, and reluctantly Sam sat down in the bunk he was assigned to originally. He curled up in a small ball, hugging his knees to his chest, and laid down on the pillow.

The dining hall was, like every other room, large, damp, and dark. Windows had bars on them and each door was guarded with armed guards. Dinner process was very organized and very routine-like. Dean held his tray of mashed potatoes, bread, and milk as he followed Noah toward one of the tables. Sam balanced his tray behind Dean, making sure to stay close to him. The boys all stood behind the benches of the tables, waiting.

Reed waited until every boy was standing behind a table and then blew his whistle loudly. The boys all sat down at the tables and waited again. Reed smirked and blew his whistle a second time. Quickly, they all began to eat.

A guard walked up and down the rows of tables just in case anything out of the routine happened. Dean looked over at one of the tables, his gaze resting on Carver, the boy who had fought with him earlier. Carver sat in the middle of two thug-like boys who looked just as threatening. Instead of the usual mashed potatoes and bread on their trays, they had half a hamburger and some stale-looking french fries. Dean leaned over to whisper to Noah, "It looks like some people got to order from a different menu,"

Dean continued to glare over at the small clique. One of the boys nudged Carver and gestured in Dean's direction. "Hey Carver," the boy with the nose piercing said, "it looks like the rookie's giving you the eye,"

Carver followed his gaze and met Dean's eyes. Carver smirked and pretended to drag a fort across his throat since they weren't allowed to have knives.

Once again, Dean felt large hands on his shoulder. The hands spun him around roughly. Reed glared down at him. "You lost one privilege, remember? I decided it's dinner," he said, smiling wickedly. "Let's go. Get up," he said, dragging Dean out of his seat by his upper arm. Sam looked worriedly at the older boy. Reed slammed Dean into one of the corners of the wall, making a point for Dean to stand there until dinner was over. Reed walked back over to talk to another boy. Sam looked sadly at Dean, fear in his wide green eyes.

Dean looked over at Carver who looked smugly at him. Dean's fists clenched and he refaced the wall.

Back in the dorm, the boys washed up in a large bathroom. Sam washed his face quickly in the sink before being shoved over by some other boys. Dean steadied Sam and then ruffled his hair. Sam smiled weakly up at him.

"Pretty cool of you the way you took on Carver today," a different voice said. Dean looked over from where the voice came from. A tall boy with brown hair with a soft grin stood in front of the two. "There ain't many of us who would mess with him,"

Dean shrugged, bringing Sam closer to him just in case. "Looks like I didn't realize who I was messing with. It seems like Carver and Reed have an understanding,"

The boy scoffed. "Yeah, Carver's under and Reed is standing,"

Dean looked confused. "The hell does that mean?"

"Let's just say Reed has his way with a lot of the boys here," the boy said with a disgusted expression. Dean grimaced and looked down at little Sam, knowing that he wouldn't let anyone touch him. "I'm Adam," the boy said finally.

"Dean," Dean said, shaking his hand. "This is Sam," he said, looking down at the little boy who wouldn't leave his side.

"Nice to meet ya," Adam said honestly.

A taller boy with blue eyes passed by them and exchanged a friendly slap on the arm with Adam. Dean watched as the boy walked off solemnly to his bunk. Adam nodded over to him. "That's Castiel. Poor sucker,"

"What happened to him?" Sam squeaked.

Adam shook his head. "He tried to run away last month,"

"Run away?" Dean repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah but they caught him, roughed him up, and then threw him back in here. Now he's gotta do his time all over again," Adam explained in a grim tone.

Loud arguing was heard and some of the boys hurried out of the bathroom. Carver and his gang of thugs strolled in. Carver stepped in front of Adam and faced Dean and Sam, leaning against the wall casually. "You know we got off to a bad start, but now that Reed evened the score, we can start fresh," Carver said casually. "My name's Carver,"

Dean turned back to washing his face in the sink. Noah, Adam, and Sam glared at Carver in disbelief. Some of the other boys had stopped to watch what Dean would say. "I know who you are," Dean said while scrubbing his face.

Carver chuckled and shook his head. "Still gonna play it cool, huh?" He said to Dean.

Dean turned off the faucet and wiped his face with a towel. "I'm not gonna play at all," he said, brushing past Carver, Sam following close behind him.

"Listen freak you better learn the rules here real fast, cause it's real important who you move with!" Carver called after him.

Dean paused and turned to face him. Carver smirked and approached Sam. He grabbed the kid by the neck. Sam whimpered and looked up at Dean with pleading eyes.

"You know it would be real easy if you and the kid decided to fall into my little circle of friends," Carver went on, his grip on Sam's throat never loosening.

Dean unlocked Carver's hands from Sam's neck and pushed Sam behind him for safety. "The hell that's gonna happen," he said in a low, confident voice. "Thanks, but I'll pick my own friends,"

"Might I remind you that your friend is at the bottom of the food chain here," Carver said, pointing to Sam.

"And you're a brain-washed son-of-a-bitch who gets away with everything!" Adam yelled, standing in front of Sam.

Carver immediately gripped Adam around the throat while his boys held Adam's arms down. Carver grabbed a razor from the sink and held it in front of Adam's face. "You keep talking and you'll get a scar across your throat!" He yelled menacingly.

"Stop it!" Dean yelled, but some other of Carver's friends held him back too. "Let him go!"

Carver punched Adam in the stomach, and the boy's released their grip on him. Adam doubled over in pain, gripping his torso.

"Hey guys, Reed's on his way up the stairs!" One boy yelled to the group. In an instant all the boys had hurried out of the bathroom and over to their bunks.

"This ain't over, Carver!" Adam yelled after him.

Carver turned around and smirked, cracking his knuckles. "You bet your ass it ain't!"

Reed walked into the dorm and blew his whistle twice. The boys stood in two lines, eyes to the ground, silenced. Dean stood in one of the lines, keeping Sam protectively at his side.

"Countdown!" Reed announced. "Alright you know the drill!" He said to all the boys. He began to walk down the two lines, and each time he passed a boy they would say their last name first and then their name. Once that was through, Reed nodded and checked his clipboard. "Lights out! No talking!" Reed yelled and watched as the boys piled into their bunks. Reed turned off the light switch and left the room.

Dean helped Sam into bed and then pulled up the covers, tucking him in. He then got back up and settled into his own bed. He wasn't lying there for a minute before he heard a man's voice over a speaker from outside.

"Mother of salvation, I long to come to you in my misery," the voice said. Dean looked tapped the bunk above him and Noah looked down at him.

"What is that?" he whispered.

Noah looked wearily at him. "You know how you asked me about that old water tower near the building? Well there's speakers on them now, and every night the warden projects prayers or lectures from a microphone in his office,"

Dean settled back into bed, forced to listen to the words that were meant to shame them.

"Forgive these boys who are filled with corruption, pain from the wounds of crimes, putrid with the sores of sin. They are so filthy and disgusting that they are afraid you will turn your back on them. Hear them Lord and punish the soul of the sinner. Amen."

Dean rolled his eyes after it was done. What a bunch of crap. Could Sammy be so full of corruption and crime that he should be punished greatly? Of course not. Dean looked over at Sam in the darkness and heard muffled crying and sniffles, his body rocking with tears.

Dean sat up and outstretched an arm towards him since they were both in a lower bunk and relatively close together. "Hey," he said, nudging him slightly. Sammy turned to face him, his eyes shining with tears. "Morning will be here quicker than you think," Dean whispered reassuringly.

"I c-can never s-sleep in a s-strange bed," Sam sniffled, wiping the tears from his cheeks. Dean's heart broke at the little boy's look of fear. Dean sighed and climbed over to his bunk, sitting next to Sammy.

"Don't think of it as strange," Dean said, letting the little boy lean against his chest as he smoothed back his hair. "I decided to think of this as summer camp and we'll be going home soon," Dean said comfortingly.

One boy sat up in bed. "Hey shut up down there you two!" He yelled over to them. "You want 'Mr. Dread' back up here again?"

Dean sighed and walked back over to his own bunk and climbed under the scratchy sheets. Sam stared over at him from his bunk with scared eyes, whimpering in fear. The night was going to be a long one.


End file.
